


Your Silicone Skin

by ruru_u



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternating Perspectives, Android!Viktor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Human/Robot love, Learning what it is to be human, M/M, Robot AU, Romance, Society isn't sure what to think of humans loving androids, Warning for some robot gore later on, Yuuri isn't quite sure what to think either, but Viktor is easy to love we all know that, rating due to eventual smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 02:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10710252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruru_u/pseuds/ruru_u
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov is the first ever android to perform in competitive figure skating. Yuuri Katsuki is the first human to catch his interest. When fate (and a little alcohol) brings their paths together, they will discover that life and love can exist in surprising places.





	Your Silicone Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Mkay so I have like 5 other fics to work on right now but my life is not complete until I write an android AU. Look forward to much more interaction in later chapters; this one is just introductory. Thanks for reading! :)

“Yuu-chan, look! Look, there he is! That’s him!”

Long silver hair billowed behind the twirling boy. Yuuko’s finger left a smudge behind when she pulled away from pointing at him, turning to show Yuuri her excited grin. All he could see, hear, and feel in that moment was the creature onscreen: the serenity of his face, the fluidity of his movements, the litheness of his beautiful form

This was Viktor Nikiforov.

“He-he… he’s a robot?” Yuuri gaped at the screen in wonder. “Nuh-uh… that can’t be real, right?”

“Yeah, look, there’s his name! Oh my god, he’s good…”

Still Yuuri felt incredulous. He sqinted, still tingling with a sensation that made no sense, so it was left ignored. Viktor Nikiforov was supposedly the very first android to enter competitive figure skating. Yuuri could still remember how much controversy there was when he’d climbed up the ranks and people began accusing him of being built for the purpose of skating, and that it wasn’t fair for him to compete against humans. No other android had been successful in sports before - probably because, in general, they were only interested in fulfilling their owners’ demands. Viktor was owned by a skating coach, but still, no one was prepared for what he seemed to be capable of.

“He looks really human to me.”

“I know, but that’s only because Yakov-sensei wanted him to fit in!” Yuuko kept her eyes on Viktor. She seemed impatient with the questioning already. “I promise, he’s a real android. How else would you explain the fact that he’s never aged?”

Yuuri had to admit that logic held. Androids were still a relatively new technology, but they were achieving more and more unexpected things… _Leave it to the Russian team to be the first to enter one in competition,_ he thought.

But watching Viktor stirred something in him besides just morbid curiosity. As the android entered his final pose, arms extending toward the heavens while his back and neck arched almost to the point of falling, it was impossible to look away. His lovely eyes almost seemed to smile along with his mouth, all sparkling, radiant, _alive._

Yuuri found himself digging deeper and deeper as time went on, unable to get the thought of Viktor Nikiforov out of his mind. He watched sports reports with his dad and listened to everything they said about the surprising new arrival - first off, his sudden appearance alongside famed coach Yakov Feltsman, who claimed the 2-year-old android had begged him nonstop to let him on the ice. Originally having purchased him for assistance duties, Yakov was hesitant to allow the risk. However, apparently Viktor was quite convincing, as he had managed to not only prove his skills to his owner (now his coach as well), but to the whole of Russia in National competition.

That was when the trouble started.

At first, most people were just intrigued. They wanted to see what a robot could do. They wanted to see if a non-human could succeed in expressive arts. And not only did Viktor succeed - he excelled. He landed every jump, executed every spin, and was rumored to choreograph his own step sequences.

When Viktor won gold at the Grand Prix, everyone formed their own strong, unmovable opinion. Yuuri heard everything from, “He’s just not the same as a human. He’s built to be strong, so it’s really not fair for him to compete against actual people in physical sports” to “He’s not even real, so why is he allowed to win?” to “He’s a menace! He’s gonna give other androids crazy ideas and turn the tides of humanity! He needs to be shut down!”

And then there were the fans. Yuuri counted himself among them almost immediately. His heart sickened when he heard the cruel words against Viktor. Viktor was talented, hard-working, and kind, and he deserved the respect he showed his fans and competitors. Why couldn’t people see that? Why were they so mean?

It didn’t matter, though. Yuuri tried hard to ignore the negativity and focused all his energy on being an advocate for Viktor, a loyal fan, spending all his free time either practicing or looking up information about the android’s life. Though he’d never been overly-interested in robotic beings before, he had a particular fascination with Viktor. Even though he was created from nothing but parts, he seemed so organic, he made Yuuri think deeply about a lot of things.

One magazine article questioned, “Is Viktor Nikiforov trying to be human?” over the image of the skater hugging his new dog, an artificial canine called “Makkachin.” No person-style robot had ever owned one before, though animals were the first android models available. Only humans had ever been interested in raising them.

Yuuri cut out the picture to keep, and crumpled up the stupid words.

Viktor insipred him. He was his idol.

Yuuri’s mom and dad exchanged looks when he asked for Viktor merchandise for his 11th birthday, but they got it for him. And with his meager allowance, Yuuri bought every poster he could get his hands on, until Viktor’s image was plastered on every wall of his room.

For his thirteenth birthday, he got his very own android dog. It was a poodle model, just like Viktor’s, but mini sized, and cute as could be. Yuuri named him Vicchan.

“Someday I’m going to be just as good as Viktor,” Yuuri told Yuuko as they were jogging home from practice one day. “I’m going to skate on the same ice as him and win, and show the world that they’re wrong. Maybe I’ll even impress Viktor!” His panting breaths fogged up the air. “And then I’m gonna meet him, and tell him how amazing he is…”

Yuuko huffed. “Well, you’d better hurry. Who knows how much longer he’s gonna compete?”

She was right. Yuuri picked up the pace and didn’t stop until he’d reached home.

* * *

 

_~Ten years later~_

 

* * *

 

The roar of the crowd faded into dull white noise. Yuuri closed his eyes, breathed into his diaphragm, blew out the air and looked up to see a blur of strangers’ faces, cheering him on.

He was going to fail them all.

The music started and he went into autopilot. Determined to win, but distracted by the nagging sadness in his heart, Yuuri touched his hand to the ice when landing his first jump. With the second, there were enough rotations, but he knew he was falling before he even hit the ice. Pain shot up from his knee and he could practically hear the crowd wince along with him as he continued to botch the rest of the program. “Oooh, that could have gone better,” one announcer said. “That was Yuuri Katsuki of Japan, ranked third in yesterday’s short program. Let’s see if he still holds a spot on the podium after the judges make their decision.”

_So much for my big Grand Prix debut._

Angry tears stung Yuuri’s eyes as he skated toward Celestino. His coach’s eyes were tight, looking away. Yuuri knew he’d disappointed him. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he said, just as the other man was opening his mouth to speak. He barely managed to put his guards on before rivulets began to run down his cheeks, and he pushed past a throng of reporters and spectators to find somewhere that he could hide, where no one would bother him, where he could just disappear.

 _“Yuuri… honey, I’m so sorry,”_ his mother had rasped over the phone. _“Vicchan… he malfunctioned. We don’t know what happened. The specalist said, some of these cheaper models, they just… sometimes their parts will jam and stop working. We had to have him scrapped. There was no other option.”_

Yuuri remembered nodding, but not saying anything. He wanted to be angry at his mom, but he couldn’t. He knew she loved Vicchan too. He knew she wasn’t going to say anything terrible like, “we can get you new one.” He knew that _she_ knew, that Yuuri saw his dog as a real dog. And that he was heartbroken.

_“Go out there and skate your best for him, okay? I know he’s so proud of you, Yuuri. We all are.”_

And he did, just barely. But today, after sleeping on it, and dwelling on it, and ruminating so much he nearly forgot his own step sequence, Yuuri flopped. He couldn’t measure the shame.

There was no way he’d catch up to Viktor now. He couldn’t possibly approach him after such a pathetic free skate.

Yuuri found his way into a bathroom stall and sat with his knees tucked up, sniffling. His costume was uncomfortable. He hated himself. He had just performed probably his worst routine yet, and it just had to be the day of the Grand Prix. It just had to be the day Viktor was finally in the same competition as him.

“No,” Yuuri whined. He squeezed his face between his knees and started to sob. Maybe if he got it all out now, he wouldn’t humiliate himself in front of Viktor a second time, should their paths cross again.

A knock startled him. “W-wha?” Yuuri cleared his throat. “Um, someone’s in here.”

It started with a low growl, and then suddenly the door slammed open and Yuuri had to duck to avoid being clocked by the metal latch. “Whoa!”

On the other side stood Yuri Plisetsky. Yuuri froze in horror. _The Russian Punk? What’s he doing in here?_

Before the older man could speak, Yuri had approached his perch and jammed a hard finger right into his sternum. “Hey, loser!” he barked. “What the fuck was that out there, huh? You’re giving figure skating a bad name! Don’t even think about coming back next year if all you can do is fall on the ice and cry in the bathroom! Got it?”

He spat on the linoleum before whipping around and stomping out, leaving Yuuri still curled up on the toilet seat, trembling.

Celestino found him a couple hours later. Yuuri had decided not to emerge until he was sure the last performances were through and Viktor would be busy with the award ceremony. Even without seeing the score, he predicted, correctly, that the android would win.

Yuuri hid beneath his jacket as Celestino led him toward the side of the rink to watch the ceremony. He rubbed soothing circles between Yuuri’s shoulderblade, telling him he knew how good he was, that he knew he was just distracted, that it was bad timing. But Yuuri was not convinced. If he could fail so easily, then how could he consider himself worth any of this?

Viktor was as brilliant as the gold medal around his neck. He held it out for the photographers and grinned. Even from far away, Yuuri was drawn to the ethereal beauty of his face. Somehow, overtime, it had only gotten more striking.

“Can we leave?”

Celestino sighed. “In a moment. Let’s wait until the rink’s a little less busy, okay?”

Resigned, Yuuri watched as the three winners posed a bit longer and then made their way to the sides. Gifts that had been thrown around on the ice were being gathered by service androids. Viktor picked up a flowery lei and draped it around one of their necks playfully.

Christophe Giacometti, who Yuuri had spoken to a few times, had won silver. He was vaguely happy for him despite everything.

Otabek Altin was in third. Suddenly the fact that a human had beat an android - even if it was just by coming in second - occurred to Yuuri. He felt a strange sense of relief, even though he had been rooting for Otabek in his own way. The Kazakhstani android coming in third to Chris would mean that, at the very least, some people would have to admit that there was a notion of equality between these performers. That hard work mattered more than what their physical forms were made of. There were a couple more androids being entered into competition now, though none had made it very far. Maybe this would open up the door for them. Maybe this would inspire them.

...Could androids be inspired? 

On the way out of the main building, Yuuri suddenly heard his name. He turned to see Viktor and his heart stopped, until he realized the android was addressing his teammate - the  _other_ Yuri.

Staring dumbly, Yuuri watched the two of them interact. He'd never been so close to Viktor before without darting in another direction. The android stood tall, significantly taller than Yuri, who looked as petulant as ever while being lectured in Russian. Yuuri knew the younger skater was an up-and-coming threat, but all he could think about was their altercation in the bathroom earlier. He wondered what Viktor would have to say about that. 

He wondered what Viktor would have to say about  _anything._ All he had ever heard him talk about was skating, on interviews and competition playback. He had never seen him converse with someone. His movements off the ice were a little stiff, his skin soft and taking on a strange glow under the flourescent lights. His eyes were inhuman, brighter than anything, and when they flicked toward Yuuri he could swear he heard Viktor's gears turning along with them.

 _Shit! Shit!_ Yuuri realized he'd been caught staring.

A smile stretched Viktor's lips. His teeth were like pearls as he held up a hand to wave at Yuuri, saying, "Want to take a picture with me?"

Yuuri's heart sank. Did Viktor think he was just some fan?

Well, if so, he was right. Yuuri escaped out the sliding doors and pretended the whole scene was just a shitty nightmare.

The next night, he changed into his tux and pressed cold paper towels against his eyes to get rid of the redness and puffiness. He didn’t want to attend any banquet, but he knew it would speak terribly of him to skip out. Everyone would call him a coward. Loser, he could take - coward, maybe not.

He tried to arrive as early as possible and stayed close to the wall, avoiding any and all sight of Viktor. His excitement to meet him in person had been overpowered by his embarrassment at coming in last place, not to mention what an idiot he'd been yesterday. Any time they had passed each other in the stadium hallways, Yuuri had avoided eye contact, even before his miserable failure. He just didn’t want to approach Viktor if he had nothing to give him, nothing to show him who he was and why he should care.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven glasses of champagne. It tingled.

He hoped that when he woke up tomorrow morning, he’d forget all of this had ever happened.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you look forward to more! I know I do :D
> 
> PS: In the following chapters is where things deviate from canon A LOT more. You'll see what I mean... basically, this is close to the same story as YOI, but with some big differences, other than the obvious ;>. 
> 
> Comments of any kind are more than welcome!
> 
> EDIT: I had to change one little thing at the end. I was unaware that the banquet happens the day AFTER the GPF.... so I apologize for the inaccuracy. I've never followed figure skating so there's a lot I don't know about it.


End file.
